Reaching for Darkness
by Shipping Princess
Summary: M for talk of torture and murder. Might be a one shot if no one wants me to continue.


**WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC AND MORBID SCENES. NO ACTUAL TORTURE OR GRAPHIC KILLING, BUT THERE IS THE AFTER EFFECTS AND TELLING OF PAST TORTURE.**

He was pleased with his work. It was delightfully morbid, with the perfect air of grace surrounding the whole scene. Vernon had some how ended op hanging from the ceiling fan by a noose of his own intestines, his eyes(which had been cut from their sockets)set on the couch next to his wife and son's own pairs of eyeballs, so they may watch the television forever(or at least until police arrived and removed them), as they so enjoyed doing.

Dudley had ended up with no hands or feet(only after each finger and toe was slowly cut off, of course), so that he could never again pummel anyone, as he had the boy so many times over, even in death. The boy had let Dudley bleed out slowly, forcing Vernon and Petunia to watch. It was lucky that the boy had already taught himself to manipulate his 'freakishness' so that he may hear the exhilarating screams of his relatives, but the screams could not be heard from outside of No. 4(Private Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey).

After Dudley was dead, Petunia was next. He had decided to beat her to death with an iron skillet, as she had done to him so many times. Of course, Vernon had been watching him do this. Petunia had been the least of his tormentors in this house, so she was rewarded with a fairly quick, but painful death.

I suppose, I shall not go into Vernon's torture, I shall just leave you with the picture of an eyeless man covered in welts from his own belt and surrounded by a pool of blood(a perfect circle beneath his feet), a perfect line from the bottom of his chest to the top of his hips right down the middle of his huge, round belly. His intestines were missing from his stomach, but were obviously used so he may hang from the ceiling fan(as previously mentioned).

The boy went and found the Polaroid camera so he can take some photos that'll automatically print and leave no digital evidence. He took his photos of the carnage before taking the printed pictures and setting the camera on one of the couch's end tables. He took one last look around before turning on his heel, taking the money from where it was hidden and swiftly leaving, making sure there was no evidence to lead back to him, or even evidence that he had ever even lived in the house. There wasn't even bloody footprints(which would be surprising to anyone but the killer).

The six-year-old walked from the house in the middle of the night and calmly made his way to the park down the street, as he had no wish to sleep that night. He would be gone by sunrise anyways, with any luck. He sat on a swing before taking out a book he had taken in the backpack he had with the title of 'A History of Weapons: Arbalests to War-Scythes'.

-._.-._.-TIME FLIES BY WHEN YOU RIDE THE MYSTICAL TIME DRAGON-._.-._.-

Mortitia had decided to go for a walk one morning, even before the sun came up, when she was visiting her cousin, Aconite, in England when she came across a house with the door wide open. She decided to see what that was about, as every odd person(normal people, to us)would most certainly still be sleeping. What she found was glorious and so beautiful it brought tears to her eyes. She would have to find the creator of such exquisite art.

(If anyone hasn't figured it out, she went into No. 4)

She continued on silently down the desolate street, making sure to shut the door behind her as she left. She walked further down only to come to a park. She was about to leave and start her search up once more later with Gomez and the children when she spotted a small form on a swing, hunched over a book much too large for the three-year-old he appeared to be.

She gracefully walked up to him, deciding to ask if he knew anything about the beautifully morbid artwork.

"Excuse me, child do you know who May have created the beautiful piece of art in No. 4? It is exquisite."

"I did." The boy said dismissively.

"Oh? Will you tell me about it? Who were those people, perhaps?" Morticia asked as she took a seat on the swing beside him.

"Sure." The boy shut his book gently and out it in his backpack before contining,"They were my aunt, uncle, and cousin. I have lived with them since I was one, when my parents died. They had always neglected and abused me because of my 'freakishness', but I had finally learned how to bend my freakishness to my will, and I had had enough, so I killed them after some hours of torture. Then I came here and read my book until you came."

"Oh, that was a delightful story, would you wish to come live with me and my family as my youngest child? You have this beautiful darkness about you. My, where are my manners? Here I am, asking if I can adopt you when I don't even know your name. What is it, darling?" Morticia was aghast at her own manners _,'though', she_ supposed, _'that has never happened before and I shall make sure it never happens again.'_

"I-I don't know. The Dursley's used to call me Boy or Freak." The boy answered.

"Well, that certainly won't do. No, no, no. Already have a Freak in the family. It is just not fitting for a beauty such as yours. Perhaps Aconite. No, you don't look like an Aconite, perhaps for a middle name? Yes, that's it. Hmm, now for your first name. Iapetus, you're not brutal enough in your killing. Hmm, how about Misery? Yes, I like that very much. Misery Aconite Addams. Do you like it?" At the boy's nod, Morticia stood and offered him a hand which he gladly took, standing as well before swinging his backpack onto his shoulder.

 **Word Count: 1050**

 **Translations: None**

 **Warnings/Tags: Death, mentions of torture, mentions of murder, mentions of abuse, young!harry**

 **Characters: Morticia Addams, Harry James Potter(Misery Aconite Addams), Vernon Dursley(deceased), Petunia Dursley(deceased), Dudley Dursley(deceased)**

 **Request:**

 **Please review, it helps become a better writer. Please no flames, but constructive criticism is always welcome.**

 **A/N:**

 **I am terribly sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Let me know how I did, I've never written anything of this morbid nature before. Thank you for reading, please let me know if I should continue, or just leave this a one-shot.**

 **Hope your day is filled with smiles and laughs,**

 **ARK**


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